In my worst moments, I hate them all. This whole light-forsaken world and everyone in it. I want to claw down everything around me and smash it to pieces. I want them to know exactly what it was like and see them break under the strain and then push their head down in the mud with my boot. Watch them struggle and scramble to get by. And I want to see them fail. To prove I’m stronger, I still stand and fight where they could not. Pain, it’s so widespread these days, people are numb from it, shrug it off like the wronged don’t matter. Just because it’s the way things are doesn’t make it right. Sick, clueless, idiotic bastards. Cut out their own hearts already or let them rot so they don’t have to open their fucking eyes, as empty and destructive as the scourge husks that wander around–more so. Worse.
This hate, it’s how it started before and it only builds with every block I put on it. This hate and they’re *dark and hard scribbles* I want them to suffer but I don’t want
And the light, that sickening idea. Don’t talk to me about that mythical, childish pretentious bullshit. Talk to me when the light leaves you, innocent and stuffed full of your stupid fantasies. Dark, naked, shivering in fear and pain. The light is a bastard. Why should I turn to it now and pretend it never turned its back on me. Or maybe it tested me. Some fucking test, warped sense of “guardianship” tests like that are given by heartless bastards full of hate and superior disdain. I am not a test. I am not someone who needed what I got to help someone else. What insanity is that idea? Here’s a bright idea. If the light is so powerful to put someone through pain so they can help someone else down the road…why not just stop the pain? It’s like claiming you should be grateful to the father that regularly beats the shit out of you for no reason. He helped you grow, you are stronger because you survived, so he did it out of love. Take your light and shove it. That deadbeat is a self-excusing prick and you know it! Why is your precious light any better for me?
I can’t hide forever, refusing to join the world to avoid my hate but the longer I spend with these infuriatingly ignorant, useless husks, preying on those around them. People they perceive as weak, people they think they can get to. I want to make them truly sorry again, feel exactly what they did, punish them like they punish others. Smack others around until they wake up and stop turning numb hearts. Worse…avoiding that darkening path…is making me little better. Guess I need another week in solitude. No. I can’t turn a blind eye this time. I may act numb, but I refuse to be them. My path be damned, got nothin’ left anyway.
Crackling flames grasp at the torn page, browning the edges and rushing to curl the paper in on itself until it’s nothing but ashes.